Ria is a good friend of mine and a better poet. Her poems are like half-rusted keys you find hanging off trees, which then proceed to fit a lock you clasped onto a bridge-railing years ago; it’s okay now to drop the weight into the canal. This one still gives me shivers, for example: thebookofnights.com/post/43478744214

If you for some reason want to have me talk about my poem, just grab me and ask me. I’m all yours.